


Squeaky Bed Woes

by flickerthenflare



Category: Glee
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon Compliant, Episode Related, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Quiet Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-18
Updated: 2014-03-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 03:49:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1330828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flickerthenflare/pseuds/flickerthenflare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine profoundly dislikes Kurt’s bed. Set during 5x06 (“Movin’ Out”).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Squeaky Bed Woes

_Squeak squeak squeak._

Blaine freezes at the sound. It takes more willpower than he’d care to admit; he missed Kurt’s ass terribly and the occasional glimpse over Skype doesn’t substitute for reality. He knows he heard something, though, other than Kurt’s heavy breathing through his mouth clamped shut to muffle the sound. Kurt makes his share of high squeaky noises in moments like this, but Blaine knows them all. He’s pretty sure Kurt wouldn’t develop new sex noises in the relatively brief amount of time they’ve had to spend apart between the proposal and Blaine’s visit. If Kurt were to develop new sex noises, they’d be when Blaine was around to remember them.

Kurt shifts under him. “Don’t stop.”

Like that. That’s an old standard. Blaine obligingly rocks his hips again.

With a feeling of dread Blaine realizes it’s Kurt’s bed making those noises that are just loud enough that he can’t ignore them or dismiss them as sounds of New York like he did while fingering Kurt open. A high-pitched sound like that carries, likely through walls if they even had them and out toward the sleeping inhabitants of the loft. The squeaking stops when Blaine stills his hips again.

“When I said ‘don’t stop,’ I didn’t mean ‘don’t stop teasing,’” Kurt pouts. “Are you okay?”

“It’s the bed.” He tries not to panic prematurely. “Why does your bed hate me?”

“I don’t hear…” He pushes back on Blaine’s erection. The bed squeaks for him as well. “Damn. Usually it only does that if I _really_ move.”

If Skype has taught Blaine anything, it’s that Kurt wriggles a lot more for Blaine than he does on his own. Blaine chooses to find it flattering more than controlling that Kurt can’t resist bucking up or leading Blaine where he wants him.

“Hold on. Let me see if...” Blaine tests moving his hips again, more slowly this time.

Definitely the bed. He moves as slowly and gently as he can, but that doesn’t outsmart the bed. No matter what speed he moves his hips the squeak follows. It seems so much louder now that he’s noticed the issue. The noise is amplified in his mind, reverberating through the walls and disturbing everyone in a 5-block radius and they have the whole building’s disapproval reigning down on them.

“I think we have a problem,” Blaine whispers. He stalls his movements completely. They were so good about being respectfully quiet in an apartment full of people and very few walls. They very patiently waited all day instead of rushing to bed upon Blaine’s midday arrival, they held back giggles at nothing other than finally being able to share intimacy in the same room instead of 500 miles apart on a pixelated screen, Kurt mostly kept his promise to keep quiet while Blaine fingered him, and now the bed is ruining his plans to make up for all the distance between them.

“No, no, it’s fine. You can barely hear it. Keep going.”

“That’s the impending orgasm talking.” He kisses the tattoo on Kurt’s back where _get_ turned into _got_ as he pulls out despite Kurt’s protests that are even louder than the bed’s. He pets at Kurt’s side reassuringly. “Give me a minute. We’ll figure it out.”

Kurt hides his whine in the crook of his elbow.

“Is music a good sound cover or the most irritating thing we could possibly do?” Blaine answers his own question a beat later. “Probably the latter. Especially if we provide it ourselves.”

Kurt dramatically flops over onto his back, which sends the bed squeaking and shaking again. “Fine. Try a different angle.” Kurt isn’t even pretending to whisper. He hooks his arms around his knees and tugs them toward his shoulders.

“I don’t think the bed is going to stop squeaking because you spread your legs more.” Although kudos to them both; he didn’t know Kurt could go that far. It’s definitely a convincing argument to try again. “Have you been practicing?”

Kurt hums his confirmation.

“God, you’re so hot.”

Kurt grins impishly in response. Kurt has always been hot, but Kurt’s awareness that he’s hot has grown exponentially in their time together and makes Blaine even more powerless to resist than he always has been.

The bed squeaks before Blaine even touches him. Blaine whimpers in response. He could go back to fingering Kurt and they could both come happy if he wasn’t just _really_ enjoying what they were doing.

“Just ignore it.” Kurt wraps his hand around Blaine’s erection to guide him back inside. “It’s not that loud.”

“Are you trying to lead me by my dick?”

“ _Nicely_.” Kurt slides his thumb so light it’s little more than a tease that has Blaine pushing forward all the same. The low lights make Kurt more impish than usual.

Blaine bites his lip to keep quiet. He tries to follow Kurt’s advice and block out the telltale squeak announcing each time he moves his hips and focus on the noises Kurt makes instead, which are also a little louder than they should be but infinitely more appealing. Worries are hard to mind when Kurt’s moaning so sweetly Blaine strains to hear only him.

_Squeak._

_Squeak._

_Squeak._

Blaine can’t concentrate on anything besides how much he hates that noise. It sounds _obscene_.

“Harder.”

By Blaine’s rough approximation, harder is a million times louder. The whole bed rocks unsettlingly. He might get motion sickness before he gets off. He’s tempted to call an intermission and coerce Kurt into finding his tool kit to see what he can do. Or find out if Kurt has more than one pair of earmuffs to spare them both.

Kurt wraps his legs around Blaine’s stalling hips. “C’mon, Blaine. They can’t hear it.”

“You don’t have walls; you can’t honestly believe…”

“At a certain point you just have to choose communal delusion and say to yourself that the sound probably doesn’t carry while your roommates tell themselves that they probably hear nothing, and it all works out.”

“We _can’t_. Be considerate, sweetheart. Or think about how we’ll regret it in the morning. Either way, we really can’t force your roommates to listen to that.” Sex with Kurt is supposed to be beautiful and private, not tomorrow’s breakfast conversation. And being inconsiderate is usually a good enough reason for Blaine. It works where their friends’ teasing or judgment doesn’t. It’s the right thing to do.

Kurt wraps strong arms around Blaine’s shoulders when working Blaine’s hips closer doesn’t yield the desired result. “Don’t wanna be considerate.” His breath in Blaine’s ear sends shivers through Blaine’s body. “Want you.” He cants his hips to show how much he means it.

Kurt’s concern about privacy is clearly inversely related to how horny he is. Once Kurt starts twisting his hips like that, he’s not going to listen to reason. Frankly, the sight doesn’t make Blaine want to think about what reason is either. Someone has to, though. Someone has to think of consequences above orgasms. Blaine pulls out again.

“ _Blaaaaaine_ ,” Kurt whines.

“I know, I know, hold on.” He shushes Kurt with a kiss. They're both creative types; they can problem-solve this. They knew there'd be inconveniences to address with living together but not alone.

Kurt’s hips rock into empty air. The bed rocks with them.

“ _Our_ roommates – because you’re going to have to deal with them soon enough – have forced me to put up with 6 AM vocal scales, nudists rubbing their misshapen balls against my antiques, the loudest battery-operated vibrator in existence, and more references to scissoring than you’d think could possibly come up in normal conversation. They can deal.” Kurt stops after one huff of exasperation when Blaine doesn’t budge.  “We’re moving to the floor.”

Blaine does a double take at Kurt’s suggestion. “What have you done with my boyfriend?”

“Fiancé.” Kurt glows at the correction.

“ _Fiancé_.” It’s his absolute favorite word. He’s distracted enough that Kurt tosses a blanket and pillows to the floor before he could stop him.

“Kurt, don’t you think that…”

“It’ll work.” Kurt is a man on a mission as he shoves pillows and blankets over the edge of the bed. Thankfully, the floorboards don't creak under Kurt when he follows.

“Most people fantasize about sex against walls.” Most people have walls.

“It’ll be romantic.” Kurt pats at the bedding arrangement he made. Lights outside Kurt’s window give just enough light to show Kurt’s eager expression.

He flushes at their unorthodox setting, but after their tryst in his Mom’s Prius, Blaine figures there are few places he wouldn’t have sex as long as they don’t squeak. He slides off as quietly as he can. Over Skype Kurt’s smile takes more coaxing to span that wide and open, but all Blaine has to do now is be right by his side.

“Is this from your list? Did you make a list?” Blaine asks.

“Hmm?”

“For the apartment. Don’t tell me you don’t have a list of appealing surfaces in the apartment.”

Kurt grins coyly. “I’m going to love having you here full time.”

Blaine grins back at the evasive comment. He tips forward to kiss at the grin lighting up Kurt’s face and there’s not a sound save for Kurt’s pleased hum.

“You hear that?” Blaine asks, and Kurt falls quiet to listen.

Finally, finally silence and Kurt isn’t about to let him celebrate alone. Kurt crashes into him, exuberance getting the better of finesse. Nothing interrupts them for once. No creaking, no shaking, no footprints outside the room. Kurt’s voices is gorgeously breathy against Blaine’s cheek as he says, “I made a list that didn’t include the floor, but I’d like to check it off anyway.”

Blaine nods eagerly. Without the noise he’s entirely focused on wanting Kurt and satisfying his urge to be as close to Kurt as humanly possible, coaxing Kurt to settle on his lap. Kurt hands frame his vision, curling around his jaw or sinking into hair and the nape of his neck. 

“No getting away this time,” Kurt teases. Like Blaine could ever want to when the circumstances weren’t dire. Blaine’ hands roam the expanse of Kurt’s skin. All of him is right in Blaine’s reach. There's no better way to get reacquainted.  He lets his hands map out the shadows. Under Kurt’s guidance Blaine closes his mouth around a nipple teasingly close to his face and Kurt arches into the touch. His hips cant as Blaine trails kisses from chest to jaw. Blaine rubs at splayed thighs and settles his hands on Kurt’s ass without feeling like the world is going to crash around him.

With a shaking hand and even shakier breath Kurt guides them back together. Blaine’s cock bumps against his rim before sliding in. His eyes are wide as he tries to stop the noises that want to cry out and he knows that’s why Kurt looks like he is holding back a laugh. Blaine draws his lips between his teeth to muffle the noise, and Kurt presses teasing kisses at the corner of his mouth to draw them back out.

He feels a little wild; they’re fucking on the floor on their first night as fiancés in their future home together. If this night sets the tone for the rest of their relationship as unsupervised adults, he’s going to feel a mix of silly, exasperated, and hopelessly turned on for the rest of his life.

Breathy gasps escape Kurt’s lips as he moves over Blaine. Blaine doesn’t have the heart to shush him. Kurt sounds infinitely sweeter in comparison to the whining from the bed.

Kurt’s fingers curl in Blaine’s hair. “I want my hands on you.”

Blaine gets the hint. He repositions his grip from Kurt’s hip and Kurt’s erection pulses in his hand.

Kurt’s resulting gasp is loud in the otherwise silent apartment. Blaine’s shush is riddled with choked back giggles that undermine his seriousness at keeping the noise down. Kurt isn’t going to do anything but laugh at him if Blaine is giggling too. Kurt obliges for a moment before he either forgets or deprioritizes silence, and then he’s back to letting out a breathy _ah_ at every move he makes.

Kurt over him always overwhelms him in the best way. Blaine’s tight lips only obscure so much. Coming quietly has never been his forte.

Kurt exhales.

Silence falls again until Kurt breaks it by Kurt’s self-deprecating giggle of, “Well, that wasn’t as quiet as planned.”

Blaine pets at Kurt’s sides moving in and out with every heavy breath he takes. It’s Blaine’s turn to be unable to bring himself to care about anything but riding the post-orgasmic high. “Could have been worse. You’re the high, squeaky noises I need in my sex life.”

Kurt’s laugh is a breathless huff.

“Don’t let me fall asleep on the floor.” He drops heavy against Blaine instead.

“No falling asleep on the floor. This isn’t that kind of sleepover.” His grip on Kurt tightens to keep them both from crashing.

Kurt’s voice is muffled against him. “Are you sure? I giggled about a boy I like a lot. Stayed up late. Made a lot of noise when other people were trying to sleep.”

“Don’t think you’re supposed to do this at sleepovers.” Blaine looks around in the dim light. “Where do you keep tissues?”

Kurt’s room is almost as unfamiliar to him as the rest of New York, which he's seen pictures of but rarely and too briefly gets to experience for himself. Not automatically knowing where Kurt keeps everything is disorienting after knowing Kurt’s room back in Lima so well, but he’ll learn.

“Hold on.” Kurt is even more foal-like now on the slick surface of the comforter he laid out and worn muscles than he usually is. 

Blaine sees the accident coming before it happens. Kurt overreaches for the box of tissues on his dresser to avoid Blaine’s suitcase propped up where Kurt doesn’t expect it. Wobblylimbs flail. He skids on his own handiwork. Blaine reaches for him and misses, but Kurt catches himself at the expense of everything else on the dresser top. Pins and beads and other craft projects scatter in a shower of startlingly loud clashes on hardwood floors that will wake not only their roommates but their neighbors as well.

Kurt grips the rim of the dresser for balance. Even with his grip he looks unsteady.

Blaine covers his face and laughs into his hands. They're playing at adulthood and the floor looks like a child left their toys out. He can’t see where all of the rhinestones and beads and pins landed in the dark but he’d bet they’re everywhere. “What is it about best laid plans?”

“Indirectly your fault. You made me wobbly.” Kurt looks too guilty for Blaine to even consider being mad.

“Sit down, please. You don’t want to trip on this.”

Kurt collapses onto the bed. It protests loudly. Blaine cringes at the noise even if it’s no comparison to the resounding disaster Kurt just created.

Kurt drops a tissue onto his lap. “We’ll get better at it. That’s proven true for everything else.”

Blaine surveys the disaster zone. Cleaning up is going to be even noisier. He's not going to pick through the millions of little pieces or shake them off and disturb their friends even more. He leaves the scattered pieces and the blankets for the morning, along with the tissue that should go in a wastebasket he can't find.

“Fates demand we huddle for warmth.” Blaine climbs onto the bed that shifts under his weigh and then Kurt’s as they settle in. He suspects they exacerbated the problem before they moved to the floor.

Kurt tugs the left behind sheet over them. He tucks it around Blaine’s shoulders. Blaine kicks his legs against tangled sheets separating him from Kurt. He gives up on the loud creaking noise his wriggling makes to fit perfectly against Kurt’s chest. A little squeaking doesn’t seem so bad now.

“Shh,” Kurt laughs. “You'll wake the whole apartment.” He tugs Blaine closer. His hand presses large and steady on his back. Kurt’s heart is loud, but that's just for him. “All we need is the bed to collapse under us to complete the disaster.”

“Don’t give it ideas. I can’t believe you own something so terrible.”

Kurt hums. “Sometimes antiques aren't as sturdy as they were in their prime.”

“Antiques, or flea market finds that are just _really old_?”

Kurt playfully bops him on his scrunched nose. “I needed something fast.”

“It’s not my place to tell you what to do with your stuff, but assuming the bed is ours…” He grins against Kurt’s skin at a word almost as bad as _fiancé_ when it comes it distracting him with how perfect it sounds on his tongue. He could fall asleep content in Kurt’s arms, dreaming about that word and not make another move on the cursed bed.

“I'm not emotionally invested. We'll pick something new together. Ooh, do you want to help pick out a new bed after you move in?”

Blaine considers. “Is this a deeply symbolic decision?”

“I want you to have a say in the life we're building together. You hated one bed I picked out already.”

“I’ll take my chances a second time and leave it entirely up to your judgment. I want this monstrosity gone.” Any heat meant to be in his voice is gone as he nestles against Kurt and Kurt’s chest obscures half the words.

“I'll find something sturdy,” Kurt promises. “It'll give me something to do while I wait impatiently for you.”

Blaine lets out a hushed laugh. He doesn't think Kurt is capable of being bored or lacking things to do, away from him or not. “I can be on the phone while you look.”

“You're distracting. I don't need to be inundated with thoughts of its future while I’m bargain hunting.”

“Clearly you do, otherwise you wouldn't have picked this squeaky saboteur. Think of the sex, Kurt. I don’t care how ugly it is. Just wanna do everything on it with you.”

Kurt fondly watches him fight back a yawn. “I'll get a new bed and I'll make a new list of everything we’ll do without leaving it.”

“Deal.” Even with the inconvenience and brief flashes if mortification, his cheer swells. In a matter of weeks he'll be back for the life as cohabitating fiancés they want to start, with new inconveniences and mortifications and headaches to figure out, and he can’t wait. 

They'll get better. It's been true about everything else so far. 


End file.
